


I Just Haven't Met You Yet

by kissontheneck



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: BFFs, Childhood Friends, Cookleta, Friendship/Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 13:12:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8057746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissontheneck/pseuds/kissontheneck
Summary: The Davids have been BFFs their entire lives, sharing ups and downs, apartments, and grocery bills. Now if only they could find the perfect partners their lives would be complete.





	I Just Haven't Met You Yet

 

~*~  
_Wherever you are  
Whenever it’s right  
You’ll come out of nowhere  
And into my life._  
~*~

  
It’s funny now that David doesn’t remember much before that day: that day in late August just before school started, when he’d been in the front yard with Daniel trying to teach him how to catch. David wasn’t very good at sports, but teaching a four year old how to toss a baseball shouldn’t have been too difficult.  
  
It hadn’t been until David saw the moving van pull into the driveway across the street and he saw a little boy tumble out of the passenger’s side door that he literally dropped the ball which rolled down the yard and into the street.  
  
He’d almost forgotten to grab Daniel before he toddled out into the road after it.  
  
But the other boy stopped in his tracks, letting go of his own little brother’s shirt collar as he eyed the ball that had managed to cross the street and stop right at the corner of the driveway, practically at his feet. Time sort of froze then -- at least, that’s how David remembers it anyway -- until the new boy bent to pick up the ball, looked up and down the street and then crossed to the Archuletas' yard, arm extended.  
  
“Here’s your ball,” he said, handing it over. “We’re moving in.”  
  
Even at six, David knew what “stating the obvious” meant, but he also knew he should be kind to people, so he didn’t comment. Instead, he said, “Hi. My name’s David. This is Daniel.”  
  
Daniel had actually wandered back towards the house where his mother had come out to see what was going on across the street. But David didn’t notice this because he was too busy being distracted by the new kid’s cheesy grin.  
  
“Hey, that’s my name too,” said the new David. “David Cook.”  
  
“David Archuleta,” David repeated, not sure what else he should say. “What grade are you in?”  
  
“First,” New David replied.  
  
“At Sunset Elementary?”  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“What teacher?”  
  
“Mr. Jackson.”  
  
David had always been bad about saying things that referred to information only he had, such as then when he blurted out, “We’re gonna have two Davids.”  
  
“What?” New David asked.  
  
“I mean, that’s what class I’m in,” David explained. “We’ll have two Davids in class. David C. and David A.”  
  
“Oooh,” David C. said in understanding. “I get it. Don’t worry, you’ll always come first.”  
  
Again, David remembers time standing still, but it was probably just his stupid brain not keeping up. Memory can do stuff like that to a person.  
  
“David, what are you doing over here?” Mrs. Cook had come across the way now. “I’m sorry, is he bothering you?”  
  
“Not at all,” Mrs. Archuleta reassured her. “Have you all eaten dinner yet?”  
  
Mrs. Cook, who had placed both her hands on New David’s shoulders, appeared taken aback.  
  
“Well, no, but--”  
  
“Please join us,” Mrs. Archuleta offered, smiling brightly. “We’re just about ready to sit down. We’d love to have you and get to know our new neighbors.”  
  
“Oh no,” Mrs. Cook said quickly, “there’s five of us. That’s a huge intrusion.”  
  
Mrs. Archuleta laughed almost comically. “And there’s six of us, including a baby. Please, it’s no trouble.”  
  
And that’s how five minutes after meeting him, David had his first dinner date with David Cook From Across The Street.  


 

~*~

  
It only took David C. a week to give David A. a nickname.  
  
“I’m gonna start calling you Archie, okay? For Archuleta.”  
  
Apparently David had no say in the matter, but he supposed that’s how nicknames worked anyway.  
  
“Um, okay,” David replied. They were at lunch, sitting under a tree on the playground while everyone else ran around in circles in some made-up game of the day. He took a bite of apple.  
  
“Should I call you something?” he asked.  
  
“Cook,” David C. answered as if he’d been prepared for this question. “Unless you think of something better, but my name’s pretty boring. Anyway, we won’t get confused.”  
  
“Mr. Jackson still calls us both David though,” David pointed out.  
  
“He’ll learn,” Cook said confidently, which David found sort of strange. Mr. Jackson was an adult, he wasn’t going to call either one of them anything other than David, for sure.  
  
“All right,” David said anyway. “You want half of my brownie?”  
  
Cook grinned from ear to ear.  


 

~*~

  
By fourth grade, Cook had somehow become a cool kid, despite being friends with David. David was shy and awkward, never knew what to do with his hands, and had a hard time talking in front of class. He did class-act weird things that only dorks do, but Cool David Cook was still friends with him. It was beyond logic, but David never questioned it. He didn’t want to risk his one (cool) friend.  
  
“Hey, Archie, don’t forget! We gotta let everyone know about our birthdays before Christmas break or no one’s gonna come.”  
  
David was used to not having many (if any) classmates at his birthday parties because not only was it during Christmas break, but it was three days after Christmas. No one wanted to go to parties three days after Christmas. No one.  
  
“Yeah,” David replied reluctantly. He kicked a pebble in front of him, gripping his backpack straps tightly as they walked home from school. “It’s okay if they don’t.”  
  
Cook stopped in his tracks. “Excuse me?” he said, sounding personally offended.  
  
“Cook, my birthday’s three days after Christmas. You know no one ever comes to my parties except you.”  
  
Cook watched him for a long moment, then started walking again.  
  
“I have a plan.”  
  
Cook didn’t bother to reveal this plan until they got to his house, where Mrs. Cook greeted them with an after school snack.  
  
“Hey, Mom?” Cook asked, taking a giant handful of pretzels to David’s five individual pieces. “Can Archie and I share our birthday party this year?”  
  
Mrs. Cook raised her brow then smiled. “What a great idea, David! Why haven’t we ever thought of that before?”  
  
“I’m almost ten, Mom. Ideas are easy for me now.”  


 

~*~

  
Snow fell softly across the city, having started in the early hours of Christmas Day and continued into the dawn. By the time the children awoke from their lazy vacation slumber, white powder had accumulated several inches in both yards and streets, transporting them to the winter wonderland always promised to them in holiday carols.  
  
The Archuleta household was in complete chaos.  
  
Mrs. Archuleta struggled to keep her children at the breakfast table, as each took his or her turn pressing fingers and faces against the dining room window in awe of this natural wonder.  
  
“Mom, can we go outside?” Jazzy pleaded.  
  
“I wanna go right now!” Daniel declared.  
  
“Eeeeeeeee!” little Amber squealed from where she’d taken root at the foot of her brother and sister.  
  
“No one is going outside until they eat their breakfast!” Mrs. Archuleta announced to the room. “Looks like David and Claudia are the only ones who are going at this rate.”  
  
The young teen Archuletas glanced at one another, surprised, then chuckled. Their younger siblings scrambled back to their chairs, suddenly very interested in cold eggs and toast.  
  
“David’s gonna take me,” Jazzy said confidently, breaking her bacon into a million pieces. “Right, David?”  
  
“I dunno,” David replied, finishing his orange juice and getting up to clear his dishes. “I was thinking of doing some homework today before all the family got here. You get a lot of homework over Christmas break in eighth grade, you know.”  
  
David was kidding of course, but that didn’t keep his little sister from going absolutely pale.  
  
“Homework! But it’s _Christmas_!”  
  
David shook his head, laughing. “Finish your bacon and we’ll see,” he replied.  
  
While his siblings worked on their meal, David wandered into the front room, where the family piano sat in front of the large, picturesque window gazing out into the street. The room was far enough away from the kitchen that it was actually quiet there. David sat down on the edge of the piano bench, facing towards the window.  
  
Snow still came down in gigantic, fluffy flakes, and the familiar street quickly transformed into an idyllic Christmas card scene. Across the street, the Cook family had already started receiving cousins and grandparents the night before, so all the cars that represented those guests had been completely covered in snow overnight, forming a veritable mountain range in front of the Cook house.  
  
David had been gazing for quite a while when suddenly the swath of white was broken by a little dot of color emerging from the house across the street. He of course recognized Cook’s electric blue ski jacket and Kansas City Chiefs knit cap. Cook hobbled through the yard before squeezing himself between the barrier of cars, catching David’s stare about halfway across the street.  
  
Cook grinned broadly and waved for David to come outside.  
  
David moved so quickly from his spot that he nearly knocked the piano bench over. He fumbled at the door to get his jacket on and very nearly forgot his scarf.  
  
“What are you doing?” David asked, jogging across the pristine snow in the driveway, meeting his best friend in the middle of the street.  
  
“I brought you your present,” Cook announced happily, shoving a gloved hand into his coat pocket. “‘Cause I probably won’t have a chance later today, so I came now.”  
  
“Uh, my birthday isn’t for three days,” David reminded him. “And we’re having a party this weekend.”  
  
“No, your Christmas present, dork,” Cook corrected, handing over a small package that was very obviously a CD.  
  
David stared blankly at his friend. They had never given each other Christmas presents before on account of their birthdays being so close to the holiday. They’d made a pact to purposefully celebrate the birthdays as individual days since so many other people lumped them together with Christmas.  
  
“Um, what?” David replied.  
  
“Okay, I know what you’re thinking,” Cook said. “But like, I couldn’t give this to you for your birthday for a couple of reasons. Open it.”  
  
David didn’t know what to do except comply. He struggled with the wrapping paper as his fingers were absolutely freezing by now, having forgotten his gloves on the way out the door. Peeling back the paper, he gasped a little. A Christmas CD by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra that he had really been wanting stared back up at him. He didn’t even remember mentioning it to Cook.  
  
“Oh my gosh,” David finally said, glancing up at Cook who was grinning like an idiot. “Thank you. I didn’t get you--”  
  
“Stop,” Cook said, putting his hand up. “Don’t even say it. Like I said, I couldn’t give it to you for your birthday because by then Christmas is over and also, our rule.”  
  
The rule Cook spoke of was “no Christmas themed presents for birthdays.”  
  
“Well, still,” David said quietly as he turned the disc over in his hands. “I probably would’ve just bought it later. You should spend your money on your family, not me.”  
  
Cook’s smile softened, his expression changing to something resembling confusion. Tiny snowflakes had gathered on his eyelashes, making him look like some kind of snowy owl or something.  
  
“But Archie,” Cook replied seriously. “You are my family.”  


 

~*~

  
The dual birthday parties lasted well into high school, and were always mostly overseen by Cook. At no point had David ever had a good plan for a party, and though Cook always encouraged him to throw out ideas, he never pressed the issue. Cook obviously knew David wasn’t creative in that way, and David appreciated that he never bothered him about it.  
  
Besides, a David Cook party attracted a totally different crowd, one that included the ever-elusive girl population. Girls that weren’t from church, more importantly. Girls like Carly Smithson and Brooke White, who were best friends and also a strange match, much like the Davids. Everyone in school wanted to date Carly Smithson, because she was so cool and edgy. And everyone liked Brooke White because she was so _nice_. David could appreciate that. Nice was good.  
  
The year they turned sixteen, Carly and Brooke came to their party, even though it was during Christmas break and even though it was three days after Christmas. (Cook insisted he’d planned the party on David’s birthday instead of his own because “A comes before C, remember?”, but really it was because the twenty-eighth conveniently landed on a Saturday.)  
  
“Uh oh, Archie, watch out,” Cook muttered not-so-nonchalantly into David’s ear as he brushed against his friend, trying to hide his face with his can of soda. “Here comes Brooke.”  
  
David didn’t have time to figure out what the heck that was supposed to mean before Brooke was right in front of him, smiling as only a shining blonde can do.  
  
“Happy birthday, David,” she said sweetly, handing him a card.  
  
“Oh!” David replied, awkwardly taking the envelope from her. “Um, thanks.”  
  
Brooke’s eyes flashed between David and the card. She giggled.  
  
“Are you going to open it?”  
  
“Oh, right!” David sputtered, almost dropping his own drink. Somewhere behind him he could hear his best friend’s distinctive chortle.  
  
He tore open the envelope, carefully tugging the card out. The front proved to be pretty girly, but just the sort of thing one would expect from Brooke White, with swirly things intertwining with flowers and stuff. He opened it, to find the simple handwritten message:  
  
_Happy birthday to my dear friend, and many more!_  
  
Dear friend? To be honest, David hardly knew her, but at this point in his life he knew he had to take friends where he could get them. Brooke White wasn’t exactly the worst person he could be friends with.  
  
“Ohhh,” David suddenly heard hummed into his ear. Cook had returned to hover over his shoulder. “Look how cute, she signed it with a heart.”  
  
Indeed, she had. Just there after the ‘e’ in her name, a little heart sat there in bright pink ink. When David looked up at her, she blushed.  
  
“Um, thanks,” he said again. He knew it was lame, but David literally couldn’t think of anything else to say. Cook’s vibrant energy seemed to wither a little next to him. Unfortunately, Brooke’s smile faded as well.  
  
“Hey, Archie, can I talk to you a minute?” Cook had switched to his Serious Voice. “Sorry, Brooke, um… I’ll be quick, promise.”  
  
Brooke nodded in understanding, her bottom lip caught firmly between her teeth. Her blonde tresses whipped around in a golden wave as she quickly made her way back to a confused looking Carly on the other side of the room.  
  
“Archie,” Cook said, tugging David by the shoulder over to the side of the snack table. “What was that? She really likes you, dude.”  
  
David shrugged. It wasn’t anything, he thought, but then that must have been the problem.  
  
“I… don’t really know her?” David tried. For some reason he couldn’t look his best friend in the eye.  
  
“Dude,” Cook repeated, now putting his hands on both of David’s shoulders. “She’s really pretty. You could totally _get_ to know her, if you know what I mean.”  
  
David felt a shiver of embarrassment; he _did_ know what Cook was getting at, of course.  
  
“Well, yeah, she’s pretty,” David agreed. “I like her and everything…”  
  
“So what’s the problem, buddy?” Cook asked. “You’ve never had a girlfriend, I’m trying to help you out here.”  
  
“I dunno,” David muttered, suddenly feeling extremely uncomfortable. “I just don’t like-like her, I guess.”  
  
This seemed to be the most confusing thing Cook had heard in his entire life.  


 

~*~

  
It wasn’t until college that David came out, mostly because he didn’t really believe it himself until then. Of course, the first person he told was Cook -- nonchalantly while playing Call of Duty one Sunday afternoon.  
  
“Oh man, can I call Brooke?” Cook asked immediately. By now David could recognize Cook’s teasing, but sometimes his jokes were severe enough that if he _weren’t_ joking it’d be a big problem.  
  
“What?!” David squawked at him, dropping the game controller which resulted in his character falling down. “Why?”  
  
Cook laughed as he sunk further into the couch. “Only because she thinks you’ve had a stomachache for like six years now is all.”  
  
“What?!”  
  
Cook laughed again. “I’m joking. It’s just that after you ran out of the basement that night, I told her you weren’t feeling well. Heads up, Arch, zombie Nazi on your tail.”  
  
David just stared at his best friend as the sounds of the aforementioned zombie devouring his video game character’s body filled the room.  
  
“This isn’t exactly how I imagined this going,” David admitted, folding his arms in front of him. “Could you just stop with the zombies for a second?”  
  
Cook sighed and put down his controller. “Arch, you know I’m listening. Sorry, okay? Thank you for telling me. But I already knew.”  
  
David nearly choked. “Wh-what? How?”  
  
Cook merely grinned and reached out to tug his best friend into a tight hug.  
  
“Some things you just know,” Cook muttered into his ear. “Welcome to the team.”  


 

~*~

  
Rain pattered softly down the windows as David flipped through an absolutely tremendous stack of sheet music at his piano. It’d been a quiet day, his morning class having been cancelled, leaving him time to catch up on some other things he needed to get done. Like choose three pieces to perform for his mid-term evaluation coming up in a few short days.  
  
He’d managed to narrow it down to a scant fifty selections, but it was going to be really hard to choose the three that showed off his skills the best, not to mention he had the worst time ranking songs over one another. He loved music too much to place any of it on a grading scale of any type.  
  
Not that he thought about music the same way other people thought about human beings or anything.  
  
He was staring at two different versions of the same song when Cook came tumbling into the apartment, arms overloaded with bulging brown paper bags.  
  
“I got some groceries after class,” Cook said, hobbling towards their tiny excuse for a kitchen. “Did you know they make pizza flavored Pringles? That’s just revolutionized my entire college experience right there. Two meals in one.”  
  
David peered over the top of his piano, brow narrowed.  
  
“How many did you buy?” he asked in a tone eerily reminiscent of his mother. “Because I’m not paying half the bill if you bought a case like last time.”  
  
Cook looked sheepish for a second before reassuring his friend.  
  
“I just got two, don’t worry. Oops, I mean four.” Cook caught his “mistake” as he pulled the third and fourth tube of Pringles out of the same bag.  
  
David sighed. Usually he’d argue that if Cook was going to buy potato chips he could at least buy cheap potato chips, but it wasn’t the battle he felt like fighting just then. He had a musical resumé to prepare.  
  
“What are you doing with all that sheet music?” Cook asked as he put milk, cheese, and other things into the refrigerator.  
  
“Preparing for my evaluation,” David answered brusquely, now spreading music all over the top of the piano. Cook shoved the rest of the food that needed refrigeration onto the appropriate shelves, then wandered over and leaned on the piano.  
  
“You haven’t chosen yet? Isn’t it in like two days?”  
  
“You don’t have to remind me!” David replied, a little more snappily than he’d intended.  
  
“Archie, just _pick_ some. You’re brilliant, your professor knows that.” Cook fingered the corner of one of the pieces nearest him. “You could play anything… like whatever the equivalent of singing the phonebook is.”  
  
“It needs to be technically challenging for my ability,” David informed him, thumbing through another part of the stack. “Like, I can’t be playing the alphabet song or whatever.”  
  
“Didn’t you decide on ‘A Thousand Miles’ yesterday?” Cook reminded him. “I thought that was an amazing idea. It must meet the technical challenge part, and you had that down in tenth grade. I’m always in awe of your fingers.” Cook mocked playing the piano, which was really more like horizontal jazz hands.  
  
“Nick thinks it needs more work,” David replied absently. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Cook bristling.  
  
“And when in the hell have you been playing it for him?” Cook asked indignantly. “Do you purposefully only invite him over when I’m not here?”  
  
David scowled at his roommate, annoyed by such a question.  
  
“You know very well that Nick also plays the piano,” David explained in an even tone. “I’m not the only person on this planet who owns one.”  
  
Cook huffed, crossing his arms in front of him.  
  
“When do I get to meet the elusive Nick Jonas anyway? Why are you hiding him from me? Is he hideous or something?”  
  
“As a matter of fact,” David answered, slapping down a stack of papers, “he’s coming over any minute now to help me choose my songs. So you can look forward to an entire evening of assessments if you so desire.”  
  
“Archie…” Cook replied, clearly saddened that they’d kind of worked themselves into some kind of argument. “I just… I’m your best friend, aren’t I? I gotta make sure you’re dating a decent person. It’s like, my job or something.”  
  
David tried to be annoyed by Cook’s answer, but he couldn’t find it in himself to do it. The truth was he relied on Cook for a lot, especially in the socialization department. He’d been both eager and scared to have his best friend meet his boyfriend because, well, Cook had basically said it. He liked that Cook looked out for him, and he longed for his oldest friend’s approval. On the other hand, if Cook found anything to criticize Nick for it would break David’s heart. Nick was the first person David thought might actually turn into a longer term relationship, and David Cook had all the power in the world to destroy that with one squinting eye.  
  
He didn’t know that, of course, but it didn’t make it any less true.  
  
A soft knock on the apartment door made both Davids snap to attention.  
  
“I’ll get it!” Cook chimed merrily, but there was no way David was going to let that happen. He practically knocked over his piano bench in his desperation to get to the door first.  
  
“Hey!” David greeted, kicking at Cook to back off. Thankfully choosing to behave himself, Cook retreated back to leaning casually on the piano.  
  
“Hey,” Nick replied, slipping into the apartment. As a greeting he gave David a half-hug that included brushing his cheek with his own. It was a smart move, David thought, if he’d in fact planned it at all. Cook would totally be all over him if he’d been too handsy.  
  
“Um, Nick,” David started, tugging him by his elbow into the apartment. “This is my roommate and best friend, David Cook.”  
  
Nick flashed his unique, smirky smile -- the kind you know is special because its owner is usually so solemn -- and put out his hand to Cook. It took Cook a second to react because sometime after about a half a second of Nick walking into the apartment he’d frozen in place with his mouth hanging wide open.  
  
So maybe David had forgotten to mention that Nick was smoking hot, no big deal.  
  
“H-hi,” he finally said, taking Nick’s outstretched hand. “Nice to… finally meet you.”  
  
“Likewise,” Nick replied, still smiling. Even David had to admit that he hadn’t yet gotten used to that killer smile. It’d make anyone go to their knees. “Hey, can I use your bathroom real quick? I had way too much water an hour ago.”  
  
“Yeah,” David replied. “Just go through the living room there, and around the corner.”  
  
After Nick had disappeared from sight, David turned to find Cook glaring at him.  
  
“ _You_ ,” Cook breathed at him.  
  
“What? What’d I do?” David asked innocently.  
  
“You didn’t… you didn’t say… I mean, he’s kinda short, but still… and like… you did not _say_...”  
  
David couldn’t help smirking. It was an amazing thing to witness a speechless David Cook.  
  
“Go ahead,” David encouraged. “Use your words.”  
  
“You asshole,” Cook said. “How could you not tell me about… about _that_? Are those arms real? Because I don’t think a human can actually have arms like that. And… oh my God, Archie.”  
  
“Would you calm down?” David asked, though he couldn’t help the elated feeling in his chest. “He’s just a person.”  
  
“Just a person with an ass that doesn’t quit,” Cook breathed, glancing in the direction where Nick had gone. “A-plus work, Archuleta. A-plus work.” He paused a second in reverie, then suddenly gasped. He closed in on David, gripping his shirt collar.  
  
“David James Archuleta,” he hissed at his friend. “Have you _hit_ that?”  
  
“Cook!” David yelped too loudly, then covered his mouth. “Don’t… How… You know I haven’t… done that yet.”  
  
“You’ve seen that naked though, right? Please tell me you’ve seen _that_ naked.”  
  
“Would you stop saying ‘that’ like he’s an object?” David replied in irritation, prying Cook’s fingers off his shirt collar. “No. But I’ve seen some photos.”  
  
“Some photos!” Cook exclaimed, his hand landing on his chest. “The world I live in contains photos of that man naked. Let’s pray for an iCloud leak.” He crossed himself.  
  
“What the heck is wrong with you right now?” David hissed, perfectly aware that Nick would be returning any second now. “They were artistic photos that his brother who’s studying photography took. He had his shirt off in like one of them.”  
  
“Oh God, he’s a model, I’m crying.” Cook had his hand over his eyes now.  
  
“He’s a _musician_ ,” David corrected. “Please pull yourself together, you’re freaking me out. If you keep on like this, I won’t bother mentioning that you play the guitar to him.”  
  
“Does he like guitars?” Cook asked hopefully, peering through his fingers.  
  
“He plays the guitar too. And the drums.”  
  
“Is there anything he can’t do?” Cook swooned.  
  
“Okay, I can’t tell if you’re being serious or trying to punk me right now or something -- but please stop. _Please_.”  
  
The desperation in David’s voice must’ve finally gotten through because Cook quickly sobered, though he still looked a little exasperated.  
  
“Okay, I’m sorry, Arch.” His doe eyes pleaded in conjunction with his words. “Really. But we seriously have to talk later, you hear me? I can’t believe you’ve never talked to me about him before. Oh my God, you want me to leave you guys alone? You know…”  
  
Cook made crazy eyes that didn’t really translate to anything in David’s vocabulary.  
  
“No, I wanted you two to meet,” David insisted. “That was the whole point of him coming over. Well, and helping me with my music.”  
  
“Well, if it starts getting late and it looks like he might be here overnight…” Cook trailed a moment before continuing. “You know, gimme a signal or something. I’ll go stay over at Carly’s or something.”  
  
“I doubt that will be necessary,” David said through tight lips. But the tight lips were only because Cook had thoroughly stressed him out in the last couple of minutes. In truth, David wouldn’t have minded a little more action from the Nick Jonas camp. The two of them had only ever really kissed and groped a little, so moving on to something a little more intimate wasn’t completely beyond his thoughts.  
  
“This is the guy!” Cook managed to spit out just as Nick was coming back through the living room. Thankfully, Nick didn’t seem to have heard it. David eyed Cook warningly.  
  
“Okay,” Nick said, heading straight for the piano. “Let’s see what we’ve got. Holy cow, this is a lot of music!”  
  
Cook had now positioned himself so that only David could see him over Nick’s shoulder, clearly because even if he couldn’t say anything out loud he was still going to try to mouth inappropriate things at David. It started immediately as David caught Cook frantically mouthing “Archie” at him.  
  
David could’ve simply sat down next to Nick at the piano and ignored his crazy friend’s insane antics, but instead he allowed himself to glance in Cook’s direction.  
  
Cook straightened his back, opened his eyes wide, and brought up his left hand, his first and second fingers extended in a V shape before thumbing frantically in Nick’s direction.  
  
It wasn’t an international symbol for anything, not the way Cook meant it anyway. And actually it’d only been some running joke from high school that no one could even remember the origin of. But David instantly knew what it meant, which sent an anxious chill down his spine.  
  
Virginity. That V had somehow followed them through all their awkward adolescence to this moment when David Cook was actually using it in a serious manner for the first time in all of history.  
  
_This is the guy_ , Cook had hissed at him moments ago. David knew how to translate Cook’s messages very well by now.  
  
_If you’re gonna lose your virginity to someone, at least let it be to a talented, lava-hot would-be model who is currently writing musical notations all over your song collection._  
  
David swallowed hard and had to sit down.  


 

~*~

  
“I can’t believe you spent that much on a pair of sunglasses,” David said for about the fourth time since he and Nick had arrived at the restaurant where they were about to have lunch. “I can barely pay for my groceries on a regular basis.”  
  
Nick smirked from across the table, sipping his soda. “Well, I got birthday money from my parents, remember?”  
  
David did remember, and apparently that’s how Nick bought the well-fitting leather jacket he was also currently wearing. But it wasn’t like Nick just splurged one time on these $180 Wayfarers in mint green while out shopping that afternoon. David had been to Nick’s apartment -- he had like fifteen pairs of those things.  
  
“Right,” David said, poking at the sandwich that had been brought to him. It seemed that Nick’s family had a little bit more money than his, not that that really mattered, of course. Except that while Nick was shopping for things like Ray-Ban sunglasses and yet another pair of distressed Diesel jeans, David had to keep making excuses for not purchasing anything for himself.  
  
Nick seemed to pick up on David’s sudden sullenness. “Did you have a good time this afternoon?” he asked, leaning his elbows on the table while gesturing with a French fry.  
  
“Oh yeah,” David replied. And it was true, in the sense that he got to spend time with his boyfriend, that is. Not so much in the random shopping for designer clothes sense though. “I don’t get to go shopping too often. Usually Cook and I are just hanging around playing video games and stuff.”  
  
Nick’s jaw kind of twitched as he leaned back in his chair, clearly maneuvering thoughts that would never see the light of day.  
  
“How long have you known each other?” Nick asked, somewhat cryptically. He stirred the straw in his soda but never took a sip of it.  
  
“Forever,” David answered, brightening. He loved talking about his and Cook’s lifelong friendship. “His family moved in across the street from us in first grade.”  
  
“That is a long time,” Nick commented without emotion. He jabbed a French fry into some ranch dressing and shoved it into his mouth.  
  
David wasn’t sure why Nick had suddenly gotten so quiet, though it wasn’t the first time he’d seen it happen. Nick was so great in so many ways, but at the same time he had a few peculiar habits that threw David off every once in a while. Sudden mood changes was one of them.  
  
Hoping to save the conversation, David tried to think of something funny to say.  
  
“Did I tell you about what happened the other day?” he piped up, instantly grinning. “It’s so funny. So, a little background, Cook is completely useless until he’s had his coffee in the morning, right? So he comes out into the living room one day and he’s like, zombie Cook basically, and --”  
  
“David,” Nick interrupted sharply, throwing down another fry in his hand. “Is there a story in your life that doesn’t involve David Cook?”  
  
Nick’s harsh tone took David by such surprise that he couldn’t do anything but stare at him for a long moment.  
  
“Er, well, I’ve known him a long time,” David finally managed to say, all the spirit gone from his voice. “He’s my best friend. We do everything together.”  
  
Nick’s lips pursed together as he pushed his plate away. “Yeah, I know. I’m almost surprised he didn’t manage to weasel his way into coming shopping with us today.”  
  
David didn’t understand what the heck Nick was getting so upset about. “He wouldn’t do that, he hates shopping.”  
  
Nick let out a huge sigh and rolled his eyes. “Implying he _would_ otherwise. Can’t he just leave you alone for a day?”  
  
“What are you talking about?” David asked, his voice shaking a little. He’d have liked to believe it was because he was getting angry and defensive, but the truth was that Nick’s sourness intimidated him. He didn’t like when people got upset with him, especially when he didn’t understand why.  
  
“David, every time I come over to your place, you guys are always all over each other, scrunched together on the couch and stuff,” Nick explained with squinted eyes. “Last time I was there he hugged you like six times right in front of me! God only knows what it’s like when I’m _not_ around.”  
  
“Nick,” David asked timidly. “Don’t you like Cook?”  
  
Nick didn’t answer, but made a grumbling sound instead. Reaching for his wallet, he threw down a stack of cash to pay for their lunch, more than was actually needed.  
  
“You ready to go?” he asked, pushing his new Wayfarers up high on his face.  
  
David still had at least half his meal left and Nick’s plate had hardly been touched. But it didn’t matter, David didn’t feel very hungry anymore.  
  
“Yeah, I guess,” he answered quietly, already slipping his jacket off the back of his chair.  
  
The drive home was a silent one.  


 

~*~

  
“Okay, Archie, can you help me with this? This is impossible.”  
  
David looked up from his homework to find his roommate clutching his guitar while staring angrily at a piece of music.  
  
“I don’t play the guitar,” David replied matter-of-factly.  
  
“But you’re a musical genius!” Cook insisted. “Just look at it?”  
  
David sighed and got up from the small table they had managed to wedge into the corner of the living room. He picked up the music Cook was struggling over and gave it a once over.  
  
“Hmm,” David said, flipping through it quickly. “Well, yeah, this is a bit difficult.” He hummed the music as he absently made his way to the piano.  
  
Setting the music up on the music stand, David dove into the piece, immediately forgetting about Cook at all. The song was indeed challenging, and he faltered a bit in a few places, but finally made it to the end. He sat back, contemplating the music for a long moment.  
  
“See?” Cook said from behind him. “You’re a genius.”  
  
“What is this?” David asked, flipping the music back to page one. “You’re not doing this for class, are you?”  
  
“Weeell,” Cook replied, making his way to David’s side. He sat down on one end of the bench, forcing David to scoot over. “I’m kind of trying to woo this guy I met in my composition class.”  
  
“Oh for goodness sake,” David breathed, clapping down the fall board that protected the piano keys. “Seriously?”  
  
“Don’t you judge me, Archuleta!” Cook defended. “Judge not lest ye be judged!”  
  
“Well! That’s the most of the Bible I’ve ever heard you recite!” David replied sarcastically. “How come I never knew you were so holy?”  
  
“It’s kind of the only part I know?” Cook answered, scrunching up his face. “And that bit about the golden rule? That’s in there, right? Anyway, don’t judge me.”  
  
David couldn’t help but laugh. “Right. Well, you have two choices. Stay up for the next ninety-six hours straight practicing this, or pick a song that actually meets your ability.”  
  
Cook opened his mouth to protest, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. David got up to answer it, finding a delivery guy holding an enormous bouquet of flowers there.  
  
“Yeah, I got a delivery for David Armeleto?” the guy said distractedly.  
  
“Archuleta?” David asked curiously.  
  
“Yeah, that’s it!” the delivery guy answered. “You wanna sign here?”  
  
David almost couldn’t close the door behind him as he struggled to bring the gigantic bouquet of mixed flowers into the apartment. There was no place wide enough to set them down except for the top of the piano.  
  
“What is that?” Cook asked, eyes as big as saucers. He got up and leaned in close so he could read the enclosed card over David’s shoulder.  
  
_David,  
Happy three month anniversary! Meet me at Chaucer’s at 7:00 tonight. Wear something sexy.  
Love,  
Nick_  
  
David’s cheeks filled with heat as Cook made a low whistle.  
  
“Dude, Chaucer’s? Are you kidding me? Do you own a tie nice enough for that place?”  
  
All David could do was make incoherent babbling sounds.  
  
“Also, weren’t you guys just fighting about something? Someone wants to make up bad, obviously.” He elbowed David and winked.  
  
“It wasn’t a fight,” David managed to say, still staring at the note. “A misunderstanding.”  
  
David had never mentioned the subject of that misunderstanding to Cook, however. Maybe Nick had come to his senses and realized his best friend wasn’t a threat at all.  
  
“I can’t believe you’ve dated so long,” Cook commented, now poking at a tiger lily. “That’s not fair. Between you and me that’s statistically improbable.”  
  
“Quality over quantity,” David replied smartly, finally allowing a smile to come to his face. “Oh gosh, I have to get a haircut right _now_. And yeah, a new tie. What time is it?”  
  
“Two forty-five.”  
  
“Ahhh! There’s no time!”  
  
Cook stared at David as if he’d just grown a second head. “What are you, a girl?”  
  
“Well, I gotta shower, press my suit, get a haircut…”  
  
“You want me to go find a new tie for you?” Cook offered, smirking.  
  
“Will you?” David replied seriously. “Go to Brooks Brothers.”  
  
“ _Brooks Brothers_?” Cook choked, leaning one hand against the piano for stability. “Since when do you have money for an eighty dollar tie?”  
  
David knew Cook had a point, but didn’t care at the moment. Nick would be dressed absolutely immaculately; David had to at least try to do his best to match it.  
  
“I’ve got emergency money,” he explained. “I’ll use that.”  
  
“Is this an emergency?” Cook questioned, his voice pitching.  
  
“Are you gonna go or not?” David asked sharply.  
  
“I’m going!” Cook replied, already moving. “Just let me put some slacks and a dress shirt on first so I can be taken seriously when I walk into that store.”  
  
“Hurry!” David yelled after him.  
  
“The things I do for you, David Archuleta!” Cook bellowed as he disappeared into his room.

 

~*~

 “I’ve had it with men!” Cook bellowed, storming into the apartment and throwing his coat on the floor. “I’m quitting them forever.”  
  
“Again?” David replied casually from the couch, his eyes still on the textbook balanced against his knees.  
  
“For reals this time, Archie.” Cook stomped over to the living area and threw himself next to David’s feet.  
  
“What happened this time?” David turned the page.  
  
“Why do you have to say it like that?” Cook asked. “Are you implying this is somehow my fault, that I’m in some kind of relationship fault cycle or something? _Would you look at me, Archuleta?_ ”  
  
David sighed and glanced up to find Cook glowering and absolutely soaked from head to foot. It’d been raining that day, but David hadn’t quite realized how hard.  
  
“Why are you all wet?” David asked. “Where’s your umbrella?”  
  
“I forgot it, duh,” Cook replied snarkily. “And I just walked here from Leverich Park, so I’ll probably come down with pneumonia by nightfall.”  
  
David rolled his eyes. “That’s like five miles away, why did you walk home?” David felt he knew the answer already.  
  
“Because I forgot my wallet and thus my bus pass,” Cook answered. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to say ‘Of course you did.’ I get it.”  
  
“Oh for goodness sake,” David said, snapping his textbook closed. “Would you just tell me what happened so you can vent like you obviously want to do?”  
  
Cook’s mouth opened and closed several times without any words coming out.  
  
“Well, just… Chris and I had a fight,” Cook said simply.  
  
“Mmm hmm. About?” David asked. Cook seemed taken aback by David’s sudden complete and pointed attention, even though that had been what he wanted in the first place.  
  
“Well, like… I mean, it’s kind of stupid when you think about it.”  
  
“No, no, no. You’ve written off all men, it must’ve been good.”  
  
Cook softened after that, finding a stray thread on his jeans to pick at.  
  
“It doesn’t matter,” he said less loudly. “But he’s an idiot. I mean, he was jerky, wasn’t he?”  
  
“He purposefully picked fights with you,” David observed. “I tried to talk to you about it before.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Cook admitted. “Love is blind and all that.”  
  
“Lust is blind,” David corrected. “We’ve talked about your problem with that too.”  
  
“You’re supposed to make me feel better,” Cook whimpered, leaning his cheek against David’s knee. “You’re not helping.”  
  
“One day you’ll realize I am,” David mumbled, reaching out to comb his fingers through Cook’s hair. Cook hummed lazily.  
  
“Mmm, what’s that, Arch?” he asked.  
  
“I said,” David answered more loudly, “you’re a deep, sensitive, caring person. You should look for the same instead of just nice abs.”  
  
“That’s not what you said,” Cook replied distantly. “But he did have good abs, right?”  
  
David punched Cook lightly in the shoulder, making them both laugh.  


 

~*~

  
Cook didn’t get home until really late the evening that David fell apart. He’d had class and work all day, a meeting with his advisor, band practice with Andy and Neal. His poor phone, which had drained to five percent battery power, told him it was dangerously close to eleven o’clock as he ascended the stairs to the apartment.  
  
All he wanted to do was take a shower, grab a beer, watch _The Daily Show_ , and go to bed.  
  
His apartment was almost impossible to enter without making a stupid amount of unnecessary noise. No matter how hard he tried, the lock clicked too loudly, the door creaked despite being relatively new, and the floorboards in the entry always squeaked. It made him feel even worse for coming home sort of late when David would most likely already be in bed.  
  
Once he got inside, however, he was surprised to find the kitchen light on. It wasn’t like David to forget to turn it off, but Cook supposed even David Archuleta was only human. As soon as he flicked off the light though, the sudden darkness drew his attention to the fact that another light glowed down the hall, spilling into the edges of the living room.  
  
That was weird.  
  
After dumping all his things on the living room couch, Cook moved quietly to the other end of the apartment, wondering if David had maybe fallen asleep reading or something.  
  
If only David had fallen asleep reading or something.  
  
The door to David’s room stood partially open, obscuring a lot of the view. But Cook could see David sitting upright on his bed, leaning against a pile of pillows with his knees drawn up to his chin. As he got closer he could see David’s glassy eyes staring aimlessly in front of him, dark circles emphasizing a sadness Cook had rarely witnessed in his best friend.  
  
“Archie?” he said softly, poking his head through the crack in the door. David didn’t move, didn’t even breathe.  
  
“Arch?”  
  
Finally, David looked up, but Cook could tell he was still unfocused and lost.  
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
The question made David’s eyes go wide and his chin to quiver. He clapped a hand over his mouth in an attempt to hide the sob fighting to get out.  
  
“What is it?” Cook asked desperately, now cutting across the room as quickly as he could. “David, are you all right? Is your family okay? What’s going on?” By now Cook had crawled up next to David, arm squeezing around him.  
  
David could barely say the word through his hiccuping.  
  
“Nick.”  
  
_Shit_ , Cook immediately thought. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._ Emotional relationship issues were the worst for David; they completely closed him off to the world. And clearly something bad had happened.  
  
This was going to be difficult. David had a hard time expressing himself in words on a good, happy day. Getting things out of him in tragic states such as this was nearly impossible.  
  
“Okay, kiddo,” Cook tried to say evenly. His fingers brushed the nape of David’s neck soothingly. “Did… did you break up?”  
  
David’s eyes squeezed tightly closed as he nodded and Cook instantly wanted to punch something. Preferably Nick’s stupid beautiful face.  
  
Cook had endured this kind of thing with David before. An overwhelmed David always froze up, stiffened, didn’t talk. The only hope anyone had in trying to break through his reclusive wall was to make educated guesses in the form of yes or no questions.  
  
“He’s the one who broke up with you,” Cook said. David buried his face into his knees and shrugged his shoulders.  
  
Damn it, straight to the shoulder shrug. In Archuleta body language that meant “It’s complicated.”  
  
“Okay,” Cook said, straining to think. That probably meant there hadn’t been clear communication. So, unanswered calls or texts or something. Avoidance.  
  
“Archie,” he continued after a minute, now rubbing David’s shoulder. “Did you see him today or was this over the phone?”  
  
David managed to whisper extremely softly, “Text.”  
  
God damn it. Cook had realized at some point that Nick was a really reserved, private person who didn’t necessarily voice his thoughts all the time. That wasn’t so bad except it was also likely that Nick didn’t communicate so well in person, so text messages were probably his preferred mode of communication. On top of that, he probably didn’t ever mention to David if he had any little problems bugging him. Seeing as David really needed people to be completely straightforward with him if they wanted him to understand such things, it added up to a chaotic intersection of misunderstanding and heartache.  
  
This infuriated Cook too, of course. He’d been in plenty of tight spots with dates before, very tempted to bail via text because it was easy. But deep in his heart he also knew it was cowardly, so to think that Nick had done this to Archie made his blood boil.  
  
“What did he say?” Cook asked at length.  
  
David tensed at the question, and Cook knew he might be in for a long wait. It also occurred to him that right now David probably just wanted someone to hold him, or maybe even to be left alone. Unfortunately, Cook just wasn’t that kind of guy. He wanted to get to the bottom of things so he could take action and right wrongs. There was no way in hell he was just going to go to bed and sleep soundly knowing David was hurting so badly in the neighboring room.  
  
Then, surprisingly, David reached across to his bedside table, pawing for his cell phone. Without even pausing to look at it, he pressed it into Cook’s lap, a new wave of hiccups overcoming him.  
  
Cook stared at it for a long time before finally picking it up with his free hand and swiping the home screen. The conversation with Nick was still open, and Cook scrolled up a few screens to the point where the messages started.  
  
_We need to talk._  
  
Cook rolled his eyes. The stereotypical horrible way to start a breakup conversation and Nick had gone right for it.  
  
David’s response: _What’s up?_  
  
_i’m just a little upset_  
  
_Why?_  
  
_u know why._  
  
Cook paused before continuing because that was such bullshit. Firstly, if a person asks why it’s because they don’t, in fact, know why. Secondly, David had to be told things directly. God bless him, but the kid just didn’t always catch all the nuances in the universe. It was what made him so delightfully innocent.  
  
_No, not really._  
  
_Yesterday?_  
  
According to the timestamp, David didn’t answer for several minutes before Nick apparently got impatient and sent another message.  
  
_u were supposed to come over. I had a whole night planned._  
  
_I told you I was sorry. But I remembered I was supposed to help Cook with editing a song he’s been writing._  
  
_u live in the same house david._  
  
_And?_  
  
_you see him ALL THE TIME._  
  
Cook stopped again because this version of Nick genuinely surprised him. The Nick he’d interacted with had always been so polite -- generous even. This demanding part of him didn’t seem to fit at all.  
  
_I made a promise_ , David had responded.  
  
It was Nick’s turn now to go silent for several minutes.  
  
_But not to me._  
  
What a dick, Cook couldn’t help thinking.  
  
_I apologized to you_ , David replied. _I offered to come over tonight._  
  
_I told you i’m busy tonight. You’d probably just ditch me again any way._  
  
At this point, Cook could feel his own anger start to creep up into his chest. First the passive-aggressiveness and now the guilt trip? Nick Jonas really did have an entirely different hidden personality after all.  
  
_What?_ was all David wrote. Cook understood. That wouldn’t make any sense to David at all.  
  
_you already live w/ him and grew up with him… now you start breaking dates with your BOYFRIEND to be with him even more? come on, David_  
  
Cook’s eyes went wide as he suddenly realized what Nick was implying.  
  
_I don’t understand,_ David replied.  
  
_I have to spell it out, i guess. It’s pretty obvious your in love with him._  
  
Cook had to look away for a moment, his heart having come up into his throat. Anger pulsed through his veins, of course, but also another feeling he wasn’t quite sure of. Something about the thought of David as anything more than his best friend in all the world caught him short of breath.  
  
_That doesn’t even make sense,_ David wrote. _Why would I date you instead of him then?_  
  
_idk, u tell me_  
  
Another long pause before David answered.  
  
_Honestly, there’s nothing to worry about._  
  
_yeah well. i think it’s gonna have to be him or me._  
  
Cook’s heart seared. Not so much because of the ultimatum itself, but how he knew it had to have torn David’s heart right in half.  
  
_Sorry?_ David replied after three minutes.  
  
_it’s to late for Sorry. Him or me._  
  
No time at all passed this time.  
  
_Then it’s him._  
  
Cook let the phone drop on the bed as he covered his eyes with his palm. There was more after that, but he didn’t need to see it, didn’t _want_ to see it. The arm that had been around David’s shoulder this whole time squeezed tighter as he leaned closer to his best friend.  
  
Then something else occurred to Cook. Something that made his heart sink into his stomach and made him feel like the worst friend in the entire universe. Something that would be so important to his loving, sensitive Archie that if the answer to his next question was ‘yes’, he might as well hand in his best friend card right then and there.  
  
“Did you and Nick have sex?”  
  
David, whose face was still buried in his knees, nodded roughly, the fabric of his jeans scraping his cheeks.  
  
_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking fuck._ That was his fault. He, David Cook. That was his fault. He’d encouraged it without thinking. Forgotten momentarily that David wasn’t like him, didn’t get into superficial relationships but rather looked for deep connections with people. Forgotten that David Archuleta was always eager to please. And David had decided to give himself to this person who clearly didn’t deserve it.  
  
_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._  
  
“Last Saturday?”  
  
David nodded yes. It had been the night Nick had sent the flowers and taken David to dinner. Cook had been getting ready for bed when he’d gotten home, but did see David for a fleeting moment. His best friend had been a little bit giddy then, practically skipping. So Cook had suspected it.  
  
Cook was at a loss. There was some behavior he truly didn’t understand, and this was one of those times. And what made it worse was that Cook had genuinely grown to like Nick for reasons beyond his biceps, found him intelligent and talented, if a bit quiet. He understood why David was so into him.  
  
So in love with him, to be more precise.  
  
The two friends sat for a long time in the silence that one can only experience at midnight in the city. Occasionally a car would rumble by or a pair of roaming teenagers would skuffle along the street. Cook rubbed David’s back as he tried to think of any sensible explanation, but he really couldn’t come up with one.  
  
After maybe ten minutes, David suddenly looked up, his puffy, red eyes desperately searching his best friend’s face. His dry, chapped lips tried to form words, but no sound came out, which broke Cook’s heart more if that were even possible. David squeezed his eyes closed in frustration, clearly shifting to sorrowful anger.  
  
“What is it, Archie? Take your time.”  
  
Eyes still closed, David licked his lips, swallowed hard, took a deep breath. He got out one word before his voice cracked.  
  
“What…”  
  
Cook hated every agonizing second of this. The longer it went on the more he wanted to go find Nick’s apartment and rip is goddamn throat out. Hurting David was a cardinal sin in his book. You hurt David Archuleta, you get a visit from David Cook’s left hook.  
  
David’s forehead smashed hard into Cook’s chest, a strangled sound escaping his lips as he clung to his friend’s waist.  
  
“What did I do wrong?” David wailed, tears soaking through Cook’s t-shirt. “What did I do wrong?”  
  
“Nothing,” Cook answered, heart searing as he squeezed David tighter than ever. He pressed his lips into David’s temple and said, “You’ve never done anything wrong in your entire life.”  


 

~*~

  
David woke with a pounding headache, the kind a person gets when he’s exhausted himself through waves of high emotion and thinking in hyperdrive. The light in the room was still dull and bluish, clearly only about seven in the morning. He stretched a little, but immediately bumped up against an unexpected someone else in his bed.  
  
Cook, still fully clothed and scrunched up on the wall side of David’s twin-sized bed, slept awkwardly, his eyes squinted and mouth frowning. His left arm sat trapped under David’s shoulder, and David found himself clinging to Cook’s middle as well. It alarmed him for a moment as his brain still struggled to wake up. Had they been watching movies together and fallen asleep? Had they resurrected their late night sleepover chats? David felt sick to his stomach, but wasn’t completely sure why.  
  
Then he remembered.  
  
Remembered, but didn’t want to. The pain, the questioning. He wished he could erase everything about Nick Jonas out of his brain forever.  
  
Cook rumbled in his sleep, attempting to push into the wall that wouldn’t let him budge. David brought his hand up to Cook’s shoulder, shaking him lightly.  
  
“Cook,” he whispered, trying to sit up halfway. “Psst, Cook. Wake up.”  
  
It took another minute of Cook grumbling and David gradually raising his voice before his disheveled friend finally opened his sleepy, dark-circled eyes.  
  
“Mornin’,” David said softly. “It’s like 7:00. You better get going if you want to be at work on time.”  
  
Cook rubbed his face, then gazed back at David, eyes searching.  
  
“How you feeling?” he said, his voice gravelly and low.  
  
David diverted his eyes, not wanting to answer. Everything came to mind again, how he’d completely fallen apart the night before. It was embarrassing, really, and he recalled having cried himself to sleep in Cook’s arms.  
  
“Archie, talk to me,” Cook cooed.  
  
“I’m okay,” David lied, clearing his throat. “I’ll… be fine. It’s no big deal.” His voice cracked on the last words and Cook sighed, squeezing his shoulder.  
  
“How many times have I told you not to lie to me?” Cook asked, stroking David’s hair.  
  
David was silent for a long moment before reminding Cook about the time again.  
  
“I don’t want you to be late for work,” he explained. He was, of course, trying very hard to divert the conversation, but he’d also gotten used to being Cook’s alarm clock years ago.  
  
“Oh, I’m calling in,” Cook explained.  
  
“Pardon?”  
  
“You don’t have class or anything today, right?” Cook reasoned. He obviously already knew the answer. David shook his head anyway. “Yeah, I’m not leaving you alone all day.”  
  
“Uh…” David didn’t know what to think about this declaration. Did it imply Cook didn’t think he could take care of himself? Should he be offended by that?  
  
“If I go to work, I know what’s gonna happen,” Cook explained. “I’m gonna come home later and find you lying in the middle of the living room floor staring at the ceiling and listening to Adele on a loop.”  
  
“But you’ll miss a day of wages,” David worried. Loss of pay due to him, of course, which made him feel terrible.  
  
“Archie, what have I said since the first day we met?” Cook replied. “You’ll always come first.”  
  
And it was at that exact moment that David finally realized Cook hadn’t just meant alphabetically.  


 

~*~

  
On December thirty-first, for the first time in a very long time, Cook did not have a party planned for New Year’s. The December celebrations had been dominated by him for years now, what with birthdays and holidays both as excuses to have some fun. That and to try to get David to drink just one alcoholic drink in his life and maybe do something even a little bit crazy. It amused Cook to no end that David Archuleta might actually loosen up for once in his life.  
  
Frankly, David was a little relieved. New Year’s parties were the loudest and most obnoxious, so he looked forward to just reading a book and maybe watching movies with Cook or something until five minutes to midnight when they’d switch to Ryan Seacrest counting down the last moments of the year. Simple.  
  
He was relieved, that is, until Cook came in the door with enough snacks and drinks to feed an army.  
  
“Uh, is the party back on and I didn’t know it?” David asked, anxiety rising in his chest.  
  
“No, Arch, this is for us,” Cook explained, starting to unload everything on the kitchen counter. “Um, I may have gotten carried away.”  
  
Carried away was an understatement. Cook had bought about five different types of chips, several packages of fancy bottled soda, some sort of champagne or something, and an uncountable amount of other snacks and candy. He’d also gotten plenty of beer for himself, of course. Cook beamed proudly at his purchases.  
  
“Okay, now we just order pizza and we’re good for the New Year!”  
  
“You’re gonna order _more_ food?” David asked. “Are you afraid there’s going to be some kind of Y2K thing happening or something?”  
  
“You can never be sure!” Cook replied seriously. David made a face at him.  
  
The evening unrolled rather dully. They ate too much pizza, ate even more candy, and watched _It’s A Wonderful Life_ , _Sleepless in Seattle_ (David managed not to cry somehow), and half of _The Lego Movie_ before Cook noticed it was seven minutes to midnight.  
  
“Ah! Change the channel!” he instructed, jumping off the couch. “I’ll get the champagne!”  
  
In the past when Cook made this announcement, it meant he was also opening a bottle of sparkling apple cider as well, but when Cook returned from the kitchen he only had the bottle of champagne and two red Solo cups.  
  
“Sorry about the cups,” he apologized, struggling with the champagne cork. “You know we don’t have fancy stemware.”  
  
“Uh, Cook?” David said. “You forgot the apple cider.”  
  
Cook avoided looking at David as he said, “No, I didn’t. Will you at least try this one time? Come on.”  
  
Now, David knew Cook wouldn’t pressure him if he said no again. He had no reason to feel embarrassed or ashamed around Cook. Cook understood him completely and would never tease him about his choices. Which is possibly why David decided he would concede, just this one time.  
  
“Fine,” he sighed.  
  
Cook’s eyes shot up at him. “Really?”  
  
“Don’t push it or I’ll change my mind,” David said, watching Cook fill the cups about half full. It seemed like an awfully large serving, to be honest.  
  
“Don’t worry, Archie, I won’t take advantage of you or anything,” Cook joked.  
  
“I know you wouldn’t,” David replied seriously.  
  
The final minute countdown began on the TV, with Ryan Seacrest beaming like an idiot in front of a sea of people in Times Square. Cook tapped his cup against David’s, giving him a wry look.  
  
_Five… four… three… two… one…_  
  
Noise erupted on the television and outside in the street. Cook took a swig of his drink, so David followed suit as fireworks rang in his ears, leaving him in a strange state of muffled hearing and with an atrocious taste in his mouth.  
  
“Jesus, Archie, you can’t drink that much of it at once!” Cook bellowed, howling with laughter. “Sip it, sip it!”  
  
“Ugh, that is so terrible!” David replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “People drink that on purpose?”  
  
“Yeah,” Cook answered. “Fancy people with taste even.”  
  
“Ugh, no taste,” David corrected. “I mean literally no taste. They have lost their taste buds in some kind of freak culinary accident.”  
  
Cook laughed so hard his face turned red, and he doubled over on the couch, clutching his stomach. David still tried to get the horrible taste out of his mouth by shoving some salty snacks into it. It only made things worse.  
  
Cook had resorted to purposeful breathing as he tried to calm down, while scenes from Times Square caught David’s eye. Shot after shot showed couples embracing, hugging, kissing. Lots of kissing, in fact. The purposeful, electrically charged kind that one anticipates for hours on New Year’s Eve.  
  
David had no one to kiss like that anymore, and the reminder made him feel absolutely terrible.  
  
Cook had sobered enough to sit up straight again, and immediately noticed his friend’s sudden solemnity.  
  
“What’s wrong, Archie?” Cook asked, hiccupping a little.  
  
All David had to do was glance at the screen.  
  
“Oh, right,” Cook replied. “Yeah, I feel ya. You know, it’s bad luck for the new year not to kiss someone at midnight too.”  
  
David squinted his eyes at Cook. Was he purposefully trying to make him feel badly? Because it was definitely working. Being doomed to a year of bad luck was exactly what he _didn’t_ need to hear right now.  
  
For a beat, the two stared at one another until Cook made the move to tug on David’s arm. Before David realized what was happening, Cook had pressed his lips to his in what was admittedly a chaste, but warm and somewhat prolonged kiss.  
  
David wasn’t exactly sure what to think. He’d been to enough New Year’s parties to know that kissing wasn’t always meant to be serious between participants. Besides, Cook had been drinking the entire evening, so he must have been just a little off balance. Even so, the feel of his best friend’s lips on his for some ten or fifteen seconds sent a chill through his body and plunged his heart into his stomach. His stomach, which was overfull with pizza, candy, snacks, and now an unnatural amount of horrible alcoholic beverage.  
  
He pulled back from Cook, feeling tremendously nauseous.  
  
“Oh gosh, I’m gonna throw up,” he announced, jumping up and hurrying to the bathroom.  
  
“Not exactly the best thing you could say after kissing someone!” Cook hollered after him, cackling like a hyena.  


 

~*~

  
  
Spring snuck up on both Davids like a cat lurking in the shadows. Before he knew it, David was busy picking another round of songs to perform for his final examination, and again sheet music had been strewn from one end of the apartment to the other. In frustration, David leaned his forehead against the keyboard of his piano as he passed sheets of music over his lap. His fingers lingered on one of his favorite Michael Bublé songs, tracing the words, “Haven’t Met You Yet.”  
  
“Practice!” had been scrawled in terrible handwriting across the top and “Pick up the tempo!” streaked across the bottom where an entire line of music had been circled three times. Some notes had even been corrected by the writer with nearly illegible penmanship.  
  
It was Nick’s handwriting.  
  
David threw the music onto the floor in anger before sitting up and smashing his fingers across the keyboard.  
  
“Practice, huh? I’ll show you who’s needs practice,” David muttered to the empty room. Nick had always been so strict about precise measure counts and half-rests, about following all the rules of music without deviation. And David appreciated music’s rules, he really did. Without rules music wouldn’t work at all. But music was still art, and art meant expression, and expression meant interpretation. It was so much easier to interpret without dozens of white sheets with little black dots on them getting in the way.  
  
Besides, he’d mastered memorizing songs by ear a long time ago anyway.  
  
He took a deep breath, then dove into the cheery, upbeat song of optimism in love, about finding the right person eventually, about true devotion to another human without exception.  
  
He was playing and singing so loudly that he didn’t know Cook had come home until he appeared at the other end of his piano.  
  
“Ack, you scared me!” David yelped, fingers crashing across the bleach-white keys.  
  
“Archie, that’s the best I’ve heard that song all week,” Cook complimented. “And as you know, I’m getting real tired of waiting for Michael Bublé to randomly bump into me in a grocery store every time I hear it.”  
  
“Thanks,” David said, still recovering from being startled. “You’re home from your date early.”  
  
Cook huffed and frowned. “Yeah, well. Russ broke up with me.”  
  
“What?” David asked, completely surprised. “ _He_ broke up with _you_?”  
  
David hadn’t liked Russ from the first moment he’d met him because it was obvious he was kind of a jerk. He’d already treated Cook badly on several occasions, all the while Cook kept giving his all to being an awesome boyfriend. If anything, the breakup should’ve at least gone the other way around.  
  
“Yeah, get this,” Cook continued. “We have a fucking date tonight, right? Like, he made the date himself, there’s no excuses for forgetting or anything. And I show up there, and I usually just let myself in, right? But the door’s locked. So I’m like, what the hell?”  
  
For some reason, without even having any concrete details yet, David could feel his jaw tightening up, quickly followed by his neck and shoulders. This story sounded fishy, and since he already didn’t trust Russ anyway he knew he was about to be very angry in about two seconds time.  
  
“So I knock,” Cook continues. “Nothing. I knock again. I’m just about to pull out my phone to call or check for a missed text when I suddenly hear voices inside his place. Like, rushed, worried sounding voices.”  
  
“Do not finish this story,” David said through gritted teeth. “I see where this is going.”  
  
“Oh, you probably don’t,” Cook went on, exasperated. “A minute later, that asshole opens the door. And I’m like, ‘What’s going on? Is someone here?’ I mean, I’m already angry at this point, of course. And he’s all, ‘No, no, my dear friend Melissa is visiting.’ Well, shit, Archie, guess how I get to meet his dear friend Melissa? You’ll never guess.”  
  
David couldn’t even imagine at this point because he’d already been thrown off by the fact that there was a girl in this story.  
  
“Half-naked.” Cook finished. “Half-naked, clutching her shirt to her chest as she squeezes between us out the door. She smiled at me. Fucking smiled! And Russ is like, ‘Yeah, hey, we need to talk.’ We need to talk. I need to fucking punch your lights out, is what.”  
  
Cook trailed after that, but the story had finally reached a point that didn’t need any further explanation. He wandered into the kitchen and flung open the refrigerator, staring at it for a long time.  
  
David sighed and left his piano, finding his way to the living room couch.  
  
“What do you wanna do?” he asked after a long moment. “Ice cream and Doctor Who?”  
  
This was David’s way of saying, _Sorry about your terrible breakup, man. Let’s cry over some Cherry Garcia._ It was the basic way they consoled one another in tough times.  
  
“Ugh,” Cook groaned, emerging with a bottle of beer and a ginger ale. He paused to peek in the freezer, then made another annoyed sound.  
  
“We haven’t got any,” he replied, pushing the door closed. “Figures.”  
  
He made his way into the living area and dropped himself into the armchair across from David, handing over the ginger ale.  
  
“I’ll go get some,” David offered, sipping his drink. “I’ll get as many as my arms can hold. And chocolate. And, uh, like all the stupid chick flicks out of Redbox.”  
  
Cook breathed a chuckle through a swig of beer.  
  
“You’re amazing, David Archuleta.”  
  
In all of his life, David had never felt particularly outstanding at anything at all. All he really knew how to do was care for other people when they needed it, and maybe even when they didn’t need it too. He never understood treating anyone badly. And he never understood why Cook got the bad end of the dating stick all the time. Why did all of his relationships end in tragedy? Why did he get cheated on, criticized, stood up, and emotionally abused all the time? David wasn’t convinced it was just bad decisions on Cook’s part, especially since he knew just how caring, compassionate, and intelligent his best friend truly was. It didn’t make sense. No one should ever have a reason to leave David Cook standing out in the rain.  
  
“I could go beat him up if you want,” David suggested. “Key his car. Egg his house.”  
  
This time Cook barely avoided sputtering a mouthful of beer all down his front as he laughed.  
  
“See, you’re sweet, Archie,” he said, wiping his mouth. “You always make me laugh. I wish I could just date you.”  
  
David blinked at him, all the breath going out of him like he’d been hit hard in the chest. David didn’t know why, but the casual comment struck him as more than just a compliment. It made his heart burn to hear that, burn and rise up in his throat, making it hard to breathe.  
  
“Why can’t you?” he asked, apparently accessing a second personality he didn’t know he had. A personality that would dare to say something like that.  
  
It wasn’t every day a person got to witness David Cook being totally blindsided by something. But at that very moment he might as well have been told that aliens had landed and wanted to take him to play rock concerts on Mars.  
  
“What?” he finally managed to say, clearly numb. “What?”  
  
“Why can’t you?” David repeated. He felt like he couldn’t muster up any new words than the ones he’d already said, so that was all the answer Cook was going to get.  
  
“I… well…” Cook fumbled a second, apparently struggling just to remember how to blink normally. “You’re my best friend.”  
  
“Yeah,” David replied, managing to nod.  
  
“That’s just wrong, isn’t it? I mean, Archie… it’s risky.” Cook paused, looking as serious as David had ever seen him in his entire life.  
  
“How so?” David asked. “Doesn’t that make _more_ sense? And you know I’d never hurt you, never. Not in a million billion years.”  
  
“Archie.” Cook said the word with equal amounts of compassion, love, and sadness, which in turn pierced David’s heart like a spear. “What if it doesn’t work out? It’s like… you can’t go back to awesome friend status. I mean, we can still be awesome friends, but… But it’s not the same. You know that. We’ve both lost good friends that way.”  
  
“Okay,” David conceded, his body slowly numbing over with weird levels of confidence, daring, and also complete fear. “But how do you actually _feel_?”  
  
It was the question that, upon reflection, had probably been sneaking around the two of them for longer than either would care to admit. New Year’s had been a close call, for example, but ultimately chalked up to alcohol and high emotions. But the expression change on Cook’s face showed how hard hit he was by David’s question, how surprised, and perhaps even how relieved.  
  
“The truth is,” Cook whispered, choking slightly through threat of emotional overload, “I love you, Archie.”  
  
Despite being the brave driver that had forced the hand of this conversation, David sat dazed for a moment, staring into Cook’s watery eyes.  
  
“Really?” David asked softly.  
  
Cook nodded, biting his lip so hard David thought he might chomp right through it. He brought his hand up to his face, swiping his big, rough palm across his eyes.  
  
“Oh my gosh, come here, you big idiot,” David said, managing to smile through the tense atmosphere while tears streamed down his own cheeks. Cook could barely get himself from his chair to the couch without tripping.  
  
The two of them had hugged so many times in their lives it’d be impossible to count, but for sure this hug right now was the first of an entirely new breed. It was the kind of hug that happened between two completely open souls, where trust flowed and relief found its way between them. They sat for a long time holding one another in the silence of their apartment.  
  
“Are you convinced it’ll be okay?” David asked after a bit. “I mean, I admit your concerns about our friendship are valid.”  
  
Cook pulled his face out of David’s shoulder, sniffed, and looked into David’s eyes in a way that was absolutely spellbinding.  
  
“It’ll all turn out,” Cook replied, giving one of his infamous smirks. “If I know you, you’re gonna make me work so we can work to work it out.”  
  
Cook almost couldn’t keep his teary laughter under control as David stared at him in bewilderment.  
  
“Did you… did you just quote Michael Bublé at me?” David asked.  
  
And David Cook -- wonderful, weird, crazy David Cook -- sang his response. Actually _sang_ it as he cradled David’s chin in his palm.  
  
“And I promise you, kid, that I’ll give so much more than I get.” His voice dropped as he leaned into his best friend’s ear. “I just haven’t met _you_ yet.”  


  
~*~  
_They say all’s fair in love and war  
But I won’t need to fight it  
We’ll get it right  
And we’ll be united_  
~*~

**Author's Note:**

> I feel it should be known that I don't actually think Nick Jonas is like this in any way, and in fact I love him dearly. <3


End file.
